


The Evil That Men Do (Lives On and On)

by lucymonster



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Lives, Character does horrible things on purpose; agrees they're horrible; is very sorry; does them anyway, F/M, Guilt, Reformed former bad guy has to go undercover as a bad guy, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: Ben has only ever been good at a few things. He used to do them in service of evil. Now, he does them in service of Rey.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	The Evil That Men Do (Lives On and On)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LamiaCalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiaCalls/gifts).



> Content note: contains mild allusions to gore, and some only-barely-offscreen torture.

The stench of torture hangs in the air: sweat, bile, piss, blood. There’s nothing wrong with the filter in Ben’s mask, but he can smell it anyway, a scent so familiar it seems to come as much from inside him as out.

‘Corath,’ he says. ‘The asset is on the planet Corath.’ In the end, all the physical torment was a waste of time – the prisoner refused to talk, and the intel had to be prised directly from his mind. But things like this are rarely about efficiency. There are points to make. Scores to settle. Sadistic urges to satisfy. Ben knows the game.

He used to be good at it. Used to take pride in it. Now only one of those things is true.

‘Of course it is.’ Jed laughs, wiping his bloody hands on their limp victim’s jacket. ‘That’s a handy trick you’ve got, that psychic thing. You’ll have to teach it to me sometime.’

Ben’s line comes naturally. He’s playing a role that isn’t really a role – not a persona, but a piece of his true self. That’s the worst part. Deep undercover, he can hardly remember ever having felt so exposed. ‘Even if I thought you had a shred of Force aptitude, I wouldn’t. My powers and I are a package deal. Take it or leave it.’

Jed looks Ben up and down. ‘After what I’ve just seen,’ he says, ‘I think I might take it.’ He jerks a thumb at the prisoner. ‘Take out the trash for me, will you? I’ll round up the rest of the team, and then it sounds like we’d better get to Corath. You can ride in the front of the hopper with me.’

He’s in. He has won the trust of Jed Solaron, head of the barbaric Sol cartel, and all it cost was the life of a rival gang leader who in theory deserved a fair trial but in practice would never have let himself be taken alive. Ben’s exactly where the Resistance needs him, in the heart of a criminal organisation that has been funneling frightening amounts of money to First Order remnants in the Unknown Regions. He’s poised to access intelligence that could help them end the next round of rising tyranny before it begins.

With one swift slash of his knife, he commits the closest thing to an act of mercy his blood-slick hands are capable of: slices the victim’s throat and ends his ordeal in one last arterial spurt.

* * *

‘You look pale,’ says Rey’s hologram.

With his mask off, Ben feels out of practice at facial expressions. He forces a smile. ‘It’s the lighting in this place,’ he says, gesturing around. ‘It’s meant to be atmospheric. You know how people are about their evil lairs.’

‘Not really,’ says Rey. ‘I’ve never had an evil lair. I  _ have  _ faked my way through being miserable, though, so don’t think that face you’re pulling is going to fool me. Ben.’ Her voice is gentle. ‘I know how hard it must be for you, being in a place like that. If it’s too much, you only have to say the word. I’ll get you out.’

She’s gotten him out of worse before. In several ways, Rey is the ultimate reason Ben’s hurting: she’s the reason he agreed to the mission, and the reason he has enough moral fibre left to baulk at the violence. She’s the reason he’s still alive to feel anything at all. ‘No,’ he says. ‘I’ll see this through.’ They’ve already tried everything else they can think of to crack the Sol cartel’s operation. The security is too good for them to do anything about from outside. Even opening a holochannel like this is risky, but Ben knows what will happen if he skips too many check-ins: Rey will reach out through the Force, concerned for his safety. Their bond will twirl their thoughts together like strands of a braid, except that Rey’s hair is clean while Ben’s drips with gore. There’s no need for his filth to spread onto her.

He’d give anything to bury his face in her neck and smell her shampoo. But if she smells what’s on him after his day’s brutal work, it might be the last time she ever lets him touch her.

‘Just don’t be afraid to ask for support,’ Rey says. ‘I’m here for you. Always. No matter what happens. Do you understand?’

There’s a lump in Ben’s throat. A lump the shape of  _ I tortured a man to death today,  _ jagged letters scratching his trachea so that his voice, when he finds it, comes out hoarse. ‘Yeah. I understand.’

What he understands is this: he has only ever been good at a few things. He used to do them in service of evil. Now, he does them in service of Rey and the cause she loves. It’s the least he can do. It’s  _ all  _ he can do, so he’s going to keep doing it no matter how much it hurts.

Rey stretches out a shimmering hand as if to cup his face. ‘I wish I could kiss you,’ she says.

Ben leans into the staticky nothingness of her holographic touch, and hates himself with enough fire to power yet another planet-killing weapon.

* * *

He’s been calling himself Zay for the mission: a name that’s easy to remember, easier to forget, and common enough that it doesn’t link him to any particular world. His Sol brothers nickname him Doctor Zaylon, after a popular talk show host who has made his career out of interrogating celebrities on camera. They say Doctor Zaylon can get anyone to spill anything. Ben takes every chance he’s offered to show off that particular expression of his skill with the Force. Getting people curious about it is part of his game plan. Sooner or later they’ll all get drunk, and someone will dare someone else to take a turn in the Doctor’s chair, and Ben will be able to help himself to the whole trove of intel buried in their head without even breaking cover.

‘Does it hurt?’ asks Rufi one day, when Ben exits the dungeon with a fistful of answers for their boss. ‘Your mind-reading thing. Does it hurt the people you do it to?’

Ben’s grateful for his mask. ‘Yes,’ he manages to say. ‘It hurts.’

‘I just thought I’d hear more screaming.’

Today’s victim was a low-tier spice mule whose boss tried to rip off a shipment from Jed. Wasn’t the kid’s fault. Ben worked as quickly and gently as he could. He turns his blank steel face on Rufi and says, ‘Not everyone cries like you when they get hurt.’

‘I do not cry.’

‘Trust me. If I did it to you, you’d shriek like a baby blurrg.’

‘Like hell I would.’ Rufi is one of Jed’s trusted lieutenants. He knows secrets about the operation that Ben longs to get his hands on. Now he’s planted the seed, and can sit back and trust Rufi’s ego to water it.

He worked as quickly and gently as he could, but there’s only ever so much he can do. Long after Rufi’s gone and Ben is alone in his quarters, the spice mule’s quiet wails reverberate through his mind.

* * *

Pain used to fuel his strength in the dark side. Now, in a twist of irony, it’s his tether to the light. Kylo Ren would have enjoyed this work immensely. He’d have relished the regular chance to practice one of his most prized skills, and gotten a kick out of the awed admiration from the other cartel members. He’d have puffed himself up with righteous purpose and a self-deluding insistence that terrorising weaker people was the ultimate fulfilment of his destiny. 

Kylo Ren would have loved working with Jed. So as long as he hates every minute of it, he’s still Ben.

The Resistance needs him to get this done, even if they don’t know every detail of exactly how he’s doing it. He shields them from the ugly details and channels his self-disgust into each new task Jed sets him. He keeps his mind locked firmly against Rey’s intrusions and endures the ache of being without her. She knows something’s wrong, of course. She knows him too well – knows both sides of him too well – to be fooled by either of his acts. But she doesn’t push, and for that, he’s more grateful than he can express.

This is all for her, in the end. His hands are dirty so that hers can stay clean. He’s giving everything he has to ensure that her work defeating his regime won’t be in vain when a new evil rises. The Force requires balance, and he’s wilting in the shadows so that she can keep her place in the sun.

She’s the only thing that keeps him going.

‘We could arrange a rendezvous,’ her hologram says one day. ‘Jed trusts you enough to let you out on your own, doesn’t he? Even just for an hour or two. I really want to see you. It feels so wrong being cut off from each other like this.’

Ben pictures himself leaving this place and running to her. They could rent a room somewhere inconspicuous and spend a blissful window of time in each other’s arms. He could shower first. Scrub his skin raw until the filth came off so that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t taint her too much with his touch. But if he allows himself that reprieve, he’ll never find the courage to come back to work. ‘I can’t risk it,’ he says, looking at his own hands so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. There’s dirt crusted under his thumbnail. Dirt, or blood. ‘I’m on the edge of a breakthrough here, and if I rouse suspicion now, it’s all over.’

‘I understand.’ She sounds disappointed but unbearably gentle. ‘This is all going to be worth it when we finally bring Sol to justice.’

Nothing in the galaxy can possibly be worth some of the things Ben has done to maintain his cover. Nothing can absolve him of the pain, the harm, the death he’s caused. But he keeps going anyway. He has to. He’s the only one who can.

In the end, it’s the only thing he’s ever been good for.


End file.
